Infinite Mana - Chapter 208: Trouble at the Border (Patreon)

Sieghart reached his next destination two days later, after spending most of the journey alternating between driving, sleeping inside the carriage, practicing Lava Sphere whenever the terrain allowed it, and thinking about several pieces of equipment he probably should have built months ago.

He had expected the goblin dungeon to resemble the previous one in at least one important way. There should have been tents, merchants, adventuring groups, temporary workshops, healers, and people constantly moving materials between the dungeon entrance and whatever settlement had formed around it.

Instead, the area looked strangely quiet. A few old fire pits remained near the road, several wooden posts had been driven into the ground, and flattened patches of grass suggested that people regularly camped here, but almost nobody was currently present.

Sieghart slowed the carriage while looking around and only then realized something obvious enough that he felt slightly stupid for not considering it earlier. Golems produced valuable minerals, ores, and cores, but goblins were considerably less attractive as a farming resource.

“What exactly are people supposed to farm here, anyway? Weapons? Clothes? Ears? Hopefully not meat, because I already have enough trauma from this world and I’m not planning to collect every possible variety.”

He grimaced at the thought and immediately decided that whatever goblin-related economy existed around the dungeon could remain unexplored until somebody explained it voluntarily. There were questions that curiosity justified asking, and then there were questions capable of ruining dinner permanently.

The lack of a permanent settlement made more sense after that realization. Adventurers could still collect cores, equipment, herbs, stolen goods, and whatever valuables goblins accumulated underground, but there was apparently less reason for miners and specialized laborers to establish an entire industry around the entrance.

Sieghart guided the carriage away from the main path and chose a place that was not particularly close to the dungeon entrance, but not far enough that he would need several minutes to reach it if something escaped while he was resting.

That possibility mattered more here than it had around the golem dungeon. A stone construct wandering outside would be obvious from a considerable distance, while a goblin could presumably hide, climb, steal, ambush travelers, or decide that Sieghart’s carriage contained something worth investigating.

He stopped beside a low rise covered by short grass and scattered stones, where the carriage remained visible from the dungeon but still possessed enough distance to avoid becoming the first object anything emerging from below would immediately encounter.

As usual, Sieghart removed the steering wheel after shutting down the mana-powered mechanism, breaking the most important input connection. He chained the wheels afterward, checked the storage compartment, and briefly considered adding another security measure before deciding the existing precautions were sufficient for now.

Only after securing everything did he properly study the dungeon entrance, and the sight immediately made this place feel very different from the natural caves and reinforced tunnels he had expected after reading the capital’s descriptions. The entrance resembled the gateway to an underground city. A broad stone staircase descended beneath an enormous arch carved directly into the hillside, while squared pillars and weathered walls continued downward beyond the point where daylight could comfortably reach.

The architecture looked old enough that parts of the outer stone had cracked and shifted, yet the overall structure remained far too deliberate to resemble a naturally formed dungeon. Empty alcoves flanked the entrance, and faint carvings surrounded the arch like remnants of some forgotten civic decoration.

Sieghart stared downward for several seconds, wondering whether the dungeon had created the structure itself or occupied something that already existed. After everything he had learned about dungeons recently, he was beginning to distrust any explanation involving the word natural.

Before he could approach the first step, movement echoed from below. The sound was unmistakable this time: several pairs of boots striking stone in an uneven rhythm, accompanied by the occasional scrape of metal and the tired breathing of people climbing uphill.

Sieghart shifted slightly away from the center of the entrance and waited. Four figures eventually appeared from the darkness, all of them young enough that he guessed they were somewhere in their late teens, though their equipment looked considerably more experienced than their faces.

Two carried spears almost as tall as they were, while the other two wore bows across their backs with quivers positioned for quick access. Their clothing consisted mostly of reinforced leather and light metal pieces designed for mobility rather than heavy protection. Magic Vision confirmed something Sieghart already suspected from the way they moved. Ambient mana bent subtly around their bodies whenever they adjusted their footing, indicating the same indirect disturbances he had learned to associate with Aura users even though he could not see Aura itself.

That immediately lowered Sieghart’s interest in conversation. Four young Aura users emerging from a goblin dungeon might be perfectly reasonable people, but experience had taught him that avoiding unnecessary attention remained considerably easier than explaining why a supposed traveling merchant knew more magic than most academies.

The group noticed him almost immediately. One of the archers looked toward the carriage, then toward Sieghart, while one spearman slowed enough to openly study his coat, face, and apparent age with suspicion that was not particularly subtle. Sieghart ignored them. He had no reason to justify parking near a public dungeon, and acting nervous around suspicious strangers generally produced more questions than simply behaving as though their opinions were somebody else’s problem.

He started toward the entrance again, but the older-looking spearman stepped away from the group and approached before Sieghart could descend. The others remained several meters behind him, watching without raising their weapons.

“You seriously came all the way out here without hearing what happened? Most people cleared out days ago, and anyone looking for real work already headed toward the border instead of wasting time here.”

Sieghart stopped and looked at him, more interested now despite himself. The warning sounded less like territorial posturing and more like genuine surprise that someone had arrived after everyone else had apparently decided there was a better opportunity elsewhere.

“Hearing about what? I’ve been traveling for a while, and most of the people I passed were more interested in complaining about road conditions than explaining why an entire dungeon suddenly looks abandoned.”

The spearman studied him for another moment before relaxing slightly, apparently deciding Sieghart was merely uninformed rather than suspicious. Behind him, one archer adjusted the strap of her bow while the others continued watching the road.

“A new dungeon appeared near the border. Not one people just discovered, either. A genuinely new one. Everyone who can fight is heading there because nobody knows what it produces yet, and nobody wants someone else claiming it first.”

Sieghart immediately thought about Aldren and the planned human offensive toward the Lost Lands. New dungeons already possessed enormous economic and strategic value, and anything appearing near contested territory sounded like the sort of problem capable of producing armies before scholars finished drawing maps.

The spearman continued before Sieghart could ask anything else, his expression becoming noticeably less casual. Apparently the situation had already progressed beyond adventurers racing one another toward an unexplored source of cores and materials.

“The Fallen know about it too. Their groups have been moving toward the same area, so now everyone’s expecting trouble. Humans want the dungeon, they want the dungeon, and nobody seems interested in pretending they can share it.”

That explained the empty camp much better than goblin economics ever could. Anyone capable of surviving deeper dungeon floors would naturally prefer exploring something completely new, particularly when controlling the entrance might eventually mean controlling whatever rare resources emerged from inside.

Sieghart looked toward the underground-city entrance, then back toward the distant road behind him. He had traveled here specifically because he wanted a quieter dungeon where he could test Fatigue Dart against living enemies without becoming involved in anything politically important.

Naturally, the world had apparently prepared another option. A newly formed dungeon. At the border. Humans gathering around it. The Fallen doing exactly the same thing. Sieghart could practically smell the complications from here, and he had not even learned what kind of monsters lived inside the place yet.

“That sounds like trouble with extra steps, which usually means somebody eventually decides the steps themselves are strategically important and starts killing people over who gets to stand on them.”

The spearman gave him a strange look, while one of the archers behind him covered a brief laugh badly enough that pretending otherwise would have been pointless. Sieghart ignored both reactions and returned his attention to the problem.

A new dungeon appearing near disputed territory could connect directly to the rumors Aldren had mentioned about dungeon activity, the Fallen, and changes spreading across human lands. That alone made the information far more interesting than another ordinary goblin expedition.

It could also be completely unrelated. New dungeons presumably appeared somewhere from time to time, and Sieghart had no intention of deciding every unusual event in the world belonged to the same mystery merely because several of them happened close together.

Still, the timing was terrible enough to deserve attention. Aldren had spoken about the first human offensive in decades, targeting a Fallen tribe that had recently gained access to a plant-producing dungeon, and now another dungeon had appeared directly around the border. Sieghart looked toward the quiet goblin entrance again. He had come here to experiment, gain levels, study living dungeon monsters, and perhaps spend several days without anybody attempting to involve him in something larger than himself.

The alternative was heading toward a contested newborn dungeon where two hostile sides were already gathering because everyone wanted a piece of whatever existed inside. One option was sensible. The other smelled like trouble.

Unfortunately, trouble had recently developed an irritating habit of containing the answers Sieghart actually wanted, which meant the border had suddenly become far more interesting than it had any right to be.